


Charcoal Wings

by Aen_Silver_Fire



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Demon, Demon AU, F/M, angel - Freeform, demonxangel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aen_Silver_Fire/pseuds/Aen_Silver_Fire
Summary: A Demon Prince and a Fallen Angel chanced upon another one cold night... Demon Prince!Itachi. DemonxAngel AU. One shot.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Charcoal Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seraphina_Scribes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphina_Scribes/gifts).



> DemonxAngel AU. Dedicated to Seraphina, who we all dearly missed!

The chasm of night opened its jaws and swallowed the world with its tongue of blackness. Quiet. A breeze tugging at the branches and the leaves. Trembling hands gripped the knife as the blade glistened lightly.

A moment of hesitation. The woman opened the window in thought. Her long dark hair run after her frantic movements. Her chest heaved.

Was this the right call? Was it fair to claim a life? Even one that had caused so much pain and suffering?

The path she would take was only for her to decide. Raise the knife and kill the insufferable swine or give in and wait and suffer, until there was nothing left of her remaining to endure his beatings. 

Humans were fashioned in such a way. Hovering between two poles, on a rope of uncertain balance, pulled mercilessly by both sides; until their souls were either salvaged or eaten whole….

The angel’s eyes followed the footsteps of the human closely as she turned back inside again to near the back of the deplorable man. She could hardly interfere, only pray, and implore.

“Salt, please,” her melodical voice, a caress to the wind, felt like a glimpse of light in the darkness.

For a moment, the human paused, as if prompted by the angel’s words. She turned and stared at the cool breeze, invading the room through the window, finding nothing in it.

But there the angel stood, her white chiton flowing gently around her small body. Her long chestnut hair danced along the cold whisps and her eyes glimmered from hazel to gold. The ornaments in her hair glistened at the flutter of her opulent, white wings.

As if jolted by lighting, the human, Salt, mumbled words of nothing to appease the brooding male, invented weak excuses for a need to purchase warm bread in the late night and took her leave in frenzy.

She nearly leapt at the speed of which she turned her back at the man and run and run and run into the night. The angelic creature followed closely, praying that the mortal woman will not succumb to the rotting delirium of sin.

Salt run towards the outskirts, passing by a wooden fence that was hardly visible for mortal eyes. Rain started dripping from the skies. She could not see the trap ahead. How a lair of demon filth oozed from the hole on the damp earth. One step… one more and she would be devoured by the heated dirt of hell. She would then be bitten and eaten by the sharp teeth, always eager to prey upon the innocent folk.

The tendrils called and begged for food and blood, sensing the moral soul nearing the lair. In one breath it would be done, and her soul would be forever damned between their jaws.

It was a moment’s decision that led the being of light interfere and casting all thoughts against the wind, shove the mortal away from the chasm… and plunge into it instead.

* * *

She was found silently whimpering, her small legs injured, her hair disheveled, her wings soiled and bent in worrisome angles. The downfall from the surface to the depths of hell was hot and stifling. Her body hurt; her soul cried at its ache.

The air itself was black and void of light; a lone torch burned, mounted on a faraway wall. Her eye darted upwards to study her surroundings. It was in vain. She could see nothing that brought even a small sense of hope in her rueful gaze. It was nothing but a bleak cavern that welcomed her into the underworld.

The angel shivered lightly. It was so hot and yet so cold. Devoid of any divine energy, even the air itself felt famished. She tried to sit up, but only whimpered some more.

Until even the light of the torch fled, as if spooked by a sense of intense hunger and her heart missed a bit.

The Prince blinked calmly, leering down from the crevice sheltered between the dark stone. His eyes shone onyx black, a hellish fire burning in their core. Powerful and sizzling, sad and pained, framed by long eyelashes darker than coal.

His soldiers were surely expecting a hearty meal; a human soul ready for the taking. Instead of that, they seem to have received a distasteful angel, torn, and bent and desperate for life lying on the depths of their cavern. She would surely leave bitterness into their mouths, should they attempt to feast on her all too pure soul. Still, their innate energy could provide a cause for rejoice, despite the bitter, pungent taste. In any case, slaughtering a divine being itself was considered a worthy feat in the realm.

Itachi crouched lightly from his elevated spot. His long hair sprawled around his royal features, a shadow of silk around his form. Ruby earrings glistened on his ears; gold shimmered in his curved horns. His ringed tail swayed with measuring interest.

He was characteristically averse to killing, maiming, devouring innocent souls. But morals were morals, duty was duty and sustenance was sustenance.

An angel’s soul was like liquor. Not enough to quench the hunger of the famished demons, but strong enough to make them forget, for mere moments, of the putrid fate they carried on their grim shoulders.

He spread his enormous, opulent wings and took flight, gracefully landing next to the ethereal creature. The flutter of the raven-like feathers seemed to unsettle her greatly, as she struggled to shield her body from the imminent harm. She was visibly hurt. Lacerations covered the entirety of her exposed skin and her, once surely proud, wings appeared intensely dejected. Her spirit, though, seemed to shine with a foreign light he could not entirely place.

He neared, his shadow towering over her. “Foolish,” he spoke lowly, his voice bass and alluring, dark silk caressing open wounds.

How utterly ridiculous to end up in such a state, in such a place. In Hell, there was no room for mercy, kindness, or light. And yet, her whole aura screamed of her need for it. How, why would such a creature end up here?

He got suddenly reminded of the words of his King, thundering in his ears. A loud warning that those filthy, wretched, white beasts are made of poison and absurdity. Only good for the joy of killing and nothing more.

Were these words true?

He could smell the acute aroma of her soul, invading his nostrils, a strong bell of dangerous poignancy, robbing anyone of sanity.

Yet, the angel looked frail and, dared he say, beautiful. A small little thing with curious eyes and breathtaking features. She also smelled, he came to find, like the flowers and the sky. It was more appealing than poignant, he noticed as he helped tend to her wounds.

He was way taller than she was, all regal and commanding. His raven wings, even retreated as they were now, stood imposing, truly breathtaking in their beauty. Golden earrings glimmered at the light of the now burning again torch.

She was astonished to find, even in her such a weakened and vulnerable state, that his appearance was utterly terrifying in a myriad of ways. She could discern from his countenance, from his posture and extravagant jewels on his curved horns that this was no mere Demon. His eyes glistened wildly, onyx that seemed to burn ablaze. He was royalty.

He wore no upper garments, allowing his wins to spread in a moment’s whim. His muscles appeared subtly tense under the torchlight and her cheeks, despite herself, were suddenly dusted with red when she noticed the piercings on his chest.

The Prince… was truly arresting.

But her pain was vehement and drumming behind her ears, her ankle bent in a way that it should not reasonably have. How could she have fallen so clumsily? As though her trusted wings did nothing to soften the fall or support her will and efforts to ascend. It felt as though a vortex pulled her in the demon lair, void of any natural light from the icy skies.

“D-… demon” she finally spoke, her voice as steady as her remaining ounce of courage afforded her. “Try me!” she challenged and angled her gaze towards him. Her eyes shone intensely, a beam of hazel light in the dimness of the cave. “I will not surrender my soul to you!”

Her breath caught in her throat when he suddenly kneeled.

He could see she was shackled by fear; of course, she was. He was pure darkness and sin, and she only knew of light and blessing. Her fingers quaked at his touch, her teeth clenched, and her lips were bitten in an effort to reign her fright.

“Why….” Her words came a little more than a whisper, as her ankle got supported and her wound closed suspiciously fast. “Why are you helping me?”

His reply came steady and resolute. She dared lift her hazel eyes to his and was met with liquid fire.

“This is no place for an angel.”

* * *

Dark as darkness was their first kiss. Sizzling, a blackened fire consuming his very being and her own. He held her close, feeling the intense heat of her body, testifying her life, her strength, his consolation. All those long days—nights of remedial rest that she so desperately needed, all this pain and stifling await he had to suffer by her side, the secrecy, the mystery, and the intense thoughts of treachery. All these were worth the taste of her full lips against his own parched ones.

She was no liquor. She was pure, clear water and he was a dry desert, waiting for the saving grace from the skies.

When he was holding her smaller body against his chest, her heart quickened and her limbs quaked in characteristic shyness, feeling his muscles tense under her fingertips. Seductive, strong, firm. It was maddening. Sparks flew out of their bodily union while they shared far more than just a need for salvation.

It was the moment they parted that his breath got caught in his lungs… the moment he saw her ivory wings dusted with charcoal.

* * *

He held her in his arms, the blood oozing from her back towards his long fingers. Her wings were covered with black dust, sizzling charcoal that swallowed them in its intensity. Writhing in pain, she lifted her hand to his cheek.

“Itachi….. save m-me!” The plea was desperate, a holler to the skies. Alas, the answer was clear even to her own now cloudy eyes. 

The Prince heaved a deep sign and closed his eyes for a moment all too long. When they fluttered open, she was still there, in pain, in misery; pure torture for them both.

He lifted his hand slowly, his fingers brushing against her soft skin now cold and unwelcoming. He passed her elegant collarbones and closed his fist around her slender neck. He could feel her breath dying out, her muscles constricting for salvation. Her beautiful, kind soul knew what was coming, what he was dictated by moral standing to do to save her from utter despair and constant ache. She was far too poisoned, far too tarnished by his own wretched hands…

“…. Seraphina….” He spoke her name, pain oozing from every syllable like the blood dripping from her wounds aplenty. “Fear not…”

She struggled by instinct against the bitterness of finality, her small hands grabbing onto his. There was no other option, no other egress. It was her only resolute protection. 

He leaned down, watching as her full, rosy lips losing their vibrancy and took them in his, nibbling, savoring her taste, before he was to part from it entirely. Her beautiful eyes fluttered weakly and her hazel irises turned to hazed mud.

He claimed her life, crumbled any remnants of divinity with his hands firmly around her neck, choking what was left of goodness in her, before it were to ever perish in the demonic prison that was a life doomed with him.

He knew he would never be blessed to find her again; their souls were molded different. His was to grovel in darkness and mud and heat and torture and hers was to fly in the skies, free and beautiful and perfect.

Through the union of their lips, he felt her trembling and her soul departed, all light and warmth leaving his side for all eternity.


End file.
